THE BEGINNING
by Cre8tiveSoul
Summary: Lt. Samantha Devereaux returns to Hawaii after the murder of her mentor, John. She is quickly face to face with her childhood best friend - John's son, Steve. When he offers her a spot on his new task force, Sam must try and reconcile the boy she once loved with the hardened man in front of her. Is it true you can't go home again or is this the 2nd chance she's been waiting for?
1. Chapter 1

**SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM**

 _Los Angeles, California_

 _Monday, September 20_ _th_ _, 2010_

The day had been long. Inordinately long. A hostage situation went sideways, SWAT was called in and LAPD's finest had to do whatever was necessary to save the day.

And they did. Just like always.

Now, as the sun began to set over the Los Angeles skyline, SWAT Lieutenant Samantha Devereaux was happy to be on her way home where she planned on curling up with her beloved pit bull, Red, and indulging in her guilty pleasure – reality TV.

Sam eased her Kawasaki Ninja into the driveway. Waving across the street to Mrs. Miller, Sam removed her helmet, releasing her long, dark auburn ponytail. She grabbed her mail and made her way up the front walk to her porch, where a package from Aunt Mae was waiting. Sam smiled, wondering what Hawaiian goodies Mae had stuffed into the box this time.

Sam disengaged the security alarm as she was toppled sideways by her big baby, Red. "How's my big boy? Did you behave today, huh? Didn't eat any more of my shoes, did you?"

Dropping her backpack by the front door, Sam began stripping the day off her 5' 8" frame as she walked towards the kitchen to get Red his cookie. Jacket thrown haphazardly on the coat rack, boots kicked off one by one by the couch, gun and badge deposited on the kitchen island. As she reached up on top of the refrigerator to grab Red's cookie jar, the house phone rang.

Sam furrowed her brow. The only time the house phone rang was if her commander couldn't wake her up at 2am with a SWAT call out. Sam checked the caller ID and saw it was Mae.

"Hey, Mae! I literally just walked in the door with your package. I haven't even had time to pop open my knife to open it," Sam said jovially.

Silence.

"Mae? You there?" Butt dial, maybe, Sam thought.

Sobbing. Sam could hear her aunt sobbing on the other end of the line and her blood ran cold.

"Mae! What is it? Are you alright?"

"Oh, Sam. I can't…I don't know…I can't under…." Mae choked.

"Aunt Mae, are you okay? What's going on?" Sam prodded. "Talk to me."

"Sweetie, it's…. it's John," Mae blurted out. "Sweetie, he's, oh God, honey, he's gone. John's dead."

Sam's knees buckled and as if in slow motion, she hit the floor, hard. Time stopped. No. It couldn't be John. There had to be a mistake.

Struggling to find her voice, she asked, "How Mae? When?" She tried to will it to be a mistake but in her heart, she just…knew. Too many years in the field taught her better.

"I don't know the details, but from what the police officers who questioned me said, it sounds as though he may have surprised someone who broke into the house this afternoon. They asked if I had heard or seen anything out of the ordinary over the past few days. He was…he was shot." The last words came out in a whisper.

Sam fought to suppress the bile that rose in her throat when she heard the last word.

Shot.

John McGarrett was shot.

No. That wasn't possible. How in the hell did John McGarrett, a decorated Vietnam veteran and cop, wind up shot and killed in his own home in broad day light? This couldn't be real.

And just like that, Sam went on autopilot and her training kicked in. Not the SWAT training. Her _other_ training. The training that told her that there was something far bigger going on than just a random break in. The training that had her already running strategy and scenarios for Mae's safety, intel to be gathered, calls to be made, favors to cash in.

"Mae? I need you to listen to me, okay?" Sam said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"What? That I need to pack a bag and go stay with Jim & Paula? I know how your mind works, sweetie." Sam marveled at how in tune she and Mae remained, despite the miles between them. "I already worked out what you would be thinking. Sam, please, come home. Be careful, but come home." The pleading in her aunt's voice broke what was left of Sam's heart.

"Don't worry about me, Mae. I'll be fine, too. I'll send you my flight info as soon as I have it. And Mae?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I love you. You know that, right?" Sam asked.

"And I love you right back, my sweet girl," Mae responded.

Sam hung up the phone and placed it on the floor. Leaning against the refrigerator where she landed, dozens of thoughts and memories flooded Sam's brain as she tried to process the fact that John McGarrett, her beloved mentor and surrogate father, was dead.

Despite sensing his person needed him, Red walked up to Sam and started to whimper to go outside. She absently patted his head as she tried to work her way through what needed to be done. Compartmentalization. That was all Sam could focus on.

Shaking her head out of the fog, Sam got up, grabbed her gun and badge from the island and her phone and keys out of her backpack and hooked Red up to his leash. She set the alarm and locked the door behind her as she took Red out for a quick walk. As she did, she remained cognizant of her surroundings. She kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. For a day that seemed normal – as if a crazy day at LAPD SWAT was considered normal – Sam felt a shift of some sort. She felt like, all of a sudden, she was back to her hypervigilant days as a CIA operative, constantly looking over her shoulder, assessing any impending threat, looking for strange cars or people between her house and the park down the street where Red liked to people watch.

As they completed their walk and made their way back to the house, Sam checked her phone for the first time since leaving headquarters. There were several missed calls from Mae, two texts from Javi asking if she wanted company tonight, and one from Jazz, checking in before her date tonight. Jazz. That's the priority call. She typed out a quick response to Javi that she was tied up. She didn't feel like she owed him a full blown explanation. Wickes would fill the team in tomorrow anyways. She just couldn't deal with him tonight.

After locking up and resetting her alarm, Sam made a beeline for the back of the house. While her family room looked like any other family room, no one noticed that the room was shorter on the inside than it was on the outside. A sliding bookshelf blocked off a small, secure space where Sam kept what could only be described as a small arsenal of weaponry, as well as multiple cell phones, laptops, tablets and boxes of paperwork – her own personal case notes that she kept on every CIA op, mission and case she ever worked on. There was even a secure drawer full of passports, driver's licenses and social security cards for a set of aliases she had set up for herself over the years, should the need to disappear ever arise. She set herself up in her own personal SCIF – Secure Compartmented Information Facility. And once Sam was comfortable, she pulled up a secure link and set up a video conference with her darling Jazz.

Within seconds the beautiful Amazonian was on her screen.

"Hey girl!" Jazz's larger than life personality filled the screen. Barely paying attention to what was happening, Jazz started going on and on about her upcoming date for the evening. Regaling Sam with information on her latest Mr. Possible Right, it took her a full minute to come up for air and really looked at Sam for the first time. Jazz stopped dead in her tracks.

"Samantha?"

"Jasmine," Sam said quietly, once again fighting the urge to break down.

"Honey girl, what happened? What do you need?" Jazz asked.

"I'm sorry to put you in this position, given that I'm no longer with the Company, but you and Matty are the only two people I can trust with this." Sam said.

"Sam, you know I am here for you, no matter what. Just hit me with it."

Sam took a halting breath. "John McGarrett was murdered in his home today."

"Oh my God!" Jazz said quietly. She knew how much John McGarrett meant to her dear friend. The man had been a second father to her her entire life, especially after her parents died. Jazz had always thought John saved Sam after her world crashed down on her in Munich. This was going to tear Sam apart. "I will get you everything, you know I will." Jazz began furiously working her technical magic.

"I know. HPD would more than likely have had the scene. Mae called me. Jazz, you should have heard her." Sam rambled on for several minutes until…

"Fuck me sideways." Jazz mumbled.

"What?" Sam said cautiously as Jazz stared back at her through the screen. "Jazz, what?"

"According to a Naval intelligence report, John McGarrett was on the phone with his son when he was shot and killed." Jazz's eyes were watering as she was reading whatever file she had tapped into.

"You're telling me that Steve heard his father…?" The bile once again began to rise in Sam's throat. Oh God. Wait, if Steve and John were on the phone…Sam's mind was spinning. "Does that mean they know who shot and killed John?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Jazz said, pausing a moment too long, as she once again gazed at her friend through the screen. Sam prompted her.

"Jazz, who killed John?" Sam demanded.

Visibly choking on the words as a tear rolled down her cheek, Jazz said the one name Sam never expected to hear fall from her lips.

"Victor Hesse."


	2. Chapter 2

**SEE YOU IN MY NIGHTMARES**

 _Victor Hesse._

She said Victor Hesse.

"Vic…Victor," Sam murmured. "Victor. Victor Hesse. Hesse killed John. John. Oh my…" Jazz watched helplessly as Sam lost touch with her surroundings. Jazz was 3000 miles away and could do nothing but watch as Sam spiraled into an abyss of memories and terror.

The bile finally won out and Sam quickly grabbed the waste can under the desk. Jazz struggled to keep herself in her seat. Though physically impossible at the moment, she desperately wanting to just wrap her arms around her friend. Jazz feared Sam would rupture something, she was so violently ill. Sam lifted her head back up into Jazz's line of vision but it wasn't there for long. She got up and took the waste can out of view. Jazz could only sit and wait until Sam returned, which she hoped wouldn't be too long. Jazz was legitimately scared for Sam's mental and physical well being. She contemplated calling Matty but knew Sam would be furious with her. She kept herself busy trying to dig for more info as to what happened in Hawaii that day.

Several minutes later, Sam came back into the room, her eyes blood shot from the pressure of the vomiting. She didn't sit, couldn't sit. Instead, Sam started pacing back and forth in the small space, muttering under her breath, running her hands through her hair. It took several more minutes for Jazz to realize what she was saying.

"It's my fault. John's dead. It's my fault. He found me. John's dead and it's my fault. How did he find me? Mae. God, he came for Mae. He found me. Why didn't he just come for me? John's dead. It's all my fault. I have to protect Mae." Sam kept this up for several minutes until…

"Dammit, Sam, snap out of it!" Jazz yelled. And snap Sam did. She had forgotten Jazz was sitting there on her large monitor, witnessing the horror and pain searing through Sam's soul. Sam turned to look at the screen and saw tears spilling out of Jazz's big brown eyes. "Sorry, honey girl, but you're scaring me."

Sam nodded. She understood. Jazz was seeing the side of Sam she always kept buried. That's what they were taught to do. Show no emotion. Learn to mask and hide the emotion. Time to bury it again. Put away the emotions. Compartmentalize. You're here to play a part, a part that is not you.

Well, this is me, Sam thought. There was no getting past that. John McGarrett was dead. Just like Ben Kingston was dead. Both at the hands of Victor Hesse. Both because of Sam. This was all Sam's fault. All she could do now was get to Hawaii, get Mae out and settled somewhere new. Then, she would finish what she started.

She would put a bullet in Victor's brain. Just like he did to Ben.

"I need to get to Hawaii as soon as possible. I have to get Mae to a safe house. Hesse found out about me, found out I'm still alive. He's doing this to torture me, that's what it has to be, right? I still don't quite understand why he didn't just come after me instead. Was killing John just an opportunity that presented itself? He must know what he was to me, just like Mae. Maybe he was getting impatient or he couldn't get to Mae, maybe that's why he…" Sam tried to bite back on another wave of nausea.

"Sam, that's not it," Jazz began.

"It has to be, Jazz. What else could it be?"

"This wasn't about you, Sam. This was about Steve," Jazz winced. For that moment, Jazz was happy to be back in Maryland and nowhere near Sam. She wasn't going to take this well.

"Steve? What the hell are you talking about?" Sam queried.

"While you were, um, cleaning up, I found out a few more details about this afternoon."

"And? What does Steve have to do with any of this?"

"Steve and his SEAL team were in the middle of a prison transport in South Korea…"

"Who were they transporting, Jazz?"

"Anton Hesse."

"Oh my God," Sam gasped, running her hands down her face. The puzzle was starting to come together. "Victor used Steve to find Anton." Jazz recognized that was a statement, not a question.

"It would appear. He was willing to 'make a trade': John for Anton."

"Never would have happened," Sam whispered. "Victor would have killed John without blinking an eye."

"I know," Jazz responded, just as quietly.

"Do you have the transcript of the conversation?"

"No. This has only happened within the past few hours, Sam. I'm surprised I have the information I have, not to mention the access to it. And Sam? There's one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Anton Hesse is dead."

"What?" Sam didn't dare to hope at least one of the bastards had been wiped out.

"From what I have here, it appears there was an ambush on the transport by Hesse's men and in the firefight, somehow, Anton was shot and killed."

Instinctively, Sam asked, "Steve?" Jazz nodded. Steve had taken Anton out.

Sam nodded a sigh of relief. All of a sudden, the fatigue caused by the emotional roller coaster of the last hour hit her like a mack truck. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hope when she opened her eyes, this was all a nightmare. "Jazz, I've got a lot to do. I've got to find a flight home, get a call in to Wickes to let him know I'm going on leave, I've got to get Red to the kennel. I'm going to go but if you come across anything else, can you let me know?"

Jazz sensed that Sam was trying to build up those famous walls, to keep everything at bay. She agreed, nonetheless, letting Sam sign off the transmission first. While Sam sat staring at the blank screen, on the other side of the country, Jazz really settled in to work. After begging off her date, her next call was one she knew Sam would be pissed about, but she did it anyways.

"Webber."

"Matty, it's Jazz. We need to talk about Sam."

Sam managed to get a flight booked for early the next morning while she called Commander Glenn Wickes, her commanding officer at LAPD SWAT. She tried to keep the conversation vague, but she knew Wickes was smarter than the average bear. He knew the basics of her background before she joined the LAPD and also knew about her close friendship with John McGarrett. He was truly devastated for her.

"Sam, I am so sorry about all of this," Wickes said. "From everything you ever told me about him, he seemed like a really great guy. You know we're all here for you, right?"

"I do, Glenn, thanks," she replied.

"Listen, why don't you let me handle Red for you. Don't put him in a kennel. I know he loves the staff over there but if you're out of town for a week or more, it's just going to put a lot of stress on him. Let me bring him here. He loves Bo & Duke and he's great with the kids. I know Janie won't mind at all. Please, let me do this for you."

Wickes was such a good guy, an exemplary leader and a great friend. Sam found herself agreeing with his idea because he was right. As much as the kennel would be fine, being with Glenn's family would actually be better for Red and Sam would definitely feel more at ease knowing he was getting the best care with them. Sam thanked him for not only volunteering to take Red in but also handling the paperwork necessary to get her leave started and telling the team she would be gone indefinitely.

With the most immediate needs addressed, Sam decided to shut down the SCIF for the night. She unlocked one of the grey filing cabinets and pulled out the dossiers on Victor and Anton Hesse. She grabbed one of her secure laptops and locked the SCIF down, heading to the living room to plop down on her favorite piece of furniture, a wide chaise lounge. Before she delved further into her files, she decided to call Mae, rather than text her.

"Sweetie?" Mae answered tentatively.

"Hey Mae." She sounded so tired, Mae thought. "Got my flight info handled. Red's going to stay with Wickes and his family while I'm there."

"That's good. He'll be fine. I hate to ask, but did you find anything?"

"Yeah. I'll fill you in when I get there. I don't believe you're in any danger but please stay with Jim & Paula tonight, ok? I'll get you tomorrow as soon as I land and then we'll go from there."

"Ok, sweetie, please get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"Love you, too, Aunt Mae. Good night." With that, Sam hung up the phone and turned to the shelf behind her, pouring herself a good, stiff drink. She nodded heavenward. "Here's to you John. I swear I'll make this right." Sam swung her legs up on the chaise and got comfortable so she could go through everything she had on the Hesse brothers. After spending quite a bit of time studying the files, making new notes, trying to make sense of everything, Sam put her laptop down and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was nearing midnight and she still had a ton to do. She noticed a text from Wickes that he would swing by in the morning to pick up Red, so not to worry about him, though he knew she would definitely worry about 'her guy'. Sam knew she needed to pack, get everything in order, but she was just exhausted. She leaned her head back and before she knew it, she had drifted off.

It came as it always did. Pieces. Snippets. Like a movie preview. Just small bits, no full scenes. At least, not until the end.

 _Munich, Germany_

 _The restaurant. A small dining room off to the side. A warm, inviting fire burning in the fireplace._

 _The younger one was sitting at the table. A leer on his face._

 _Anton._

 _Ben squeezing her hand. The fire glinting off his silver wedding band._

 _Sam absently fingering her wedding band._

 _Ben's smile._

 _The leer on Anton's face lingering on her. She was uncomfortable._

 _Something was off._

 _The nearly imperceptible nod of his head. The sizzle of electricity on the back of her neck. The fall into an abyss of darkness and silence…_

 _Then there was the hood, the duct tape. She couldn't see anything._

 _Ben was grunting. Sam could sense him…and someone else. Wait, two of them._

 _They were beating him. She felt the restraints, tried to fight against them. She felt the needle prick into her arm. Again, into the abyss._

 _The hood was ripped off her head. She never was able to figure out how long she had been under._

 _Light. Too bright. She clinched her eyes shut against it. Someone grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head up._

 _Victor._

 _The sick smile. The backhand across the face. She opened her eyes._

 _Ben._

 _Bloody. Beaten. Practically broken._

 _Anton still hovering, still leering at them both._

 _The next few…hours…days…blurred. Constant pain. Very little detail. Mercifully._

 _Finally awake and alone, Sam kept fighting to get out of the restraints. Too little, too late, she thought. She could hear angry voices, getting louder by the moment._

 _Footsteps._

 _An explosion._

 _The door bursting open. Victor and Anton. They were arguing. The drugs and the beatings had taken a toll. Sam couldn't understand what they were saying. Until…_

 _"_ _Cruz was supposed to keep them off the scent, for fuck's sake," Victor said._

 _Cruz? Their handler, Cruz?_

 _"_ _Just kill 'em and get it over with. I'm bored. And they'll be here in a matter of minutes. Let's just go," Anton replied lazily._

 _"_ _No, we need more time with her," Victor mumbed._

 _Her? Me? They were talking about Sam._

 _"_ _Well, the gate's blown, they'll breach any minute. Let's just cut our losses. We'll get what he needs another way. This isn't worth it." Again, Anton sounded bored, put out._

 _Him? Cruz? What was going on?_

 _Sam looked up. Saw the resignation in Victor's eyes._

 _Then she saw the guns in their hands._

 _Close range._

 _No way out._

 _This was it._

 _Ben saw it all, too. He tried to lunge. Sam looked on in horror as he tried to throw himself in front of her, despite being restrained to the chair. She felt the blood before she felt the pain._

 _Sam tried to twist and lunge, like Ben. It helped. Very little._

 _Heat. Left shoulder._

 _Pain. Right thigh._

 _Graze. Right ear._

 _Then, her right side. That was it. That was the one that would overtake the other shots. She knew that was the one that would ultimately force her last breath._

 _She was on the floor, on her side. That's when she heard the moan. The left. Look to the left, she thought._

 _Ben's grey eyes. Such pain and sorrow._

 _Victor walked up between them. One last shot._

 _The last thing Sam saw was the bullet rip through Ben's temple._

She didn't remember screaming.

Because then, she didn't. But she was now.

Red was up barking, fearing he missed something. He stood over her, protecting her.

Sam found herself on the floor, next to the chaise she had dozed off in. She was curled up into herself, tears flowing down her face as the nightmare of six years ago once again took hold.

How could it not?

Victor Hesse had once again taken one of the men she loved most in the world.

There was only one man left Victor could take from her. And Sam would die before she let anything happen to him. So, there was only one thing left to do.

Kill Victor Hesse.


	3. Chapter 3

**HOMEWARD BOUND**

Sam stared out the window wistfully, taking in the beauty of her island home as the plane approached O'ahu. The older gentleman next to her caught her expression. "Ever been here before?"

"I was born here," Sam smiled.

"Really?" He seemed shocked. Sam laughed.

"I know, I know. I still get 'the look' from native Hawaiians who don't believe me, but I was indeed born here. My father was stationed at the Naval base at Pearl Harbor."

"Well, thank you to your father for his service and I apologize if I offended you," he replied.

"Thank you and not at all. I got it all the time growing up. Being a tall, red headed tomboy on O'ahu was a bit of a challenge but I wouldn't change it for the world," she said proudly as she turned back to the window.

Plenty of other things I would change, she thought. But not growing up here. Not for a second.

Once Sam landed and got through baggage claim, she headed to the rental car kiosk. While she waited in line, she texted Mae who informed her that she and Paula were out shopping. Paula had insisted. Sam could just see the scene playing out in her head. Mae hated shopping but would have humored Paula, who thought retail therapy was a valid response to any crisis. So, Sam decided to use the delay to gather some intel.

Parking outside of the Honolulu Police Department, Sam stepped inside the precinct and was greeted by a perfectly perky young lady who asked her to have a seat while she located Detective Daniel Williams, the officer in charge of the investigation.

Within a matter of minutes, the receptionist informed her the detective was not in the office. Sam left her cell number and asked that the young woman give it to the detective when he got back in. "Is there anyone else working the investigation with him? I mean, John McGarrett was HPD." Sam assumed that they would have at least two or three officers on the case of a murdered, albeit, former cop.

"No, ma'am, Detective Williams is the only officer assigned to the case."

Sam stood there, trying not to look shocked. "I'm sorry, a murder investigation of a former officer only warrants _one_ detective nowadays?" The tone in Sam's voice came off more threatening than she had intended but still got the appropriate response – this little wisp of a thing was definitely intimidated by the SWAT officer.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, ma'am, I really don't know. I'm just the receptionist." Never had she ever been more grateful to say those four condescending little words. The fire that flashed in this cop's eyes scared her.

"Right," Sam said, eyes narrowed. "Please ask Detective Williams to contact me as soon as possible." With that, she stalked out. She pulled out her cell phone and sent a quick text to call in a favor.

Feeling restless, Sam decided to do what she did when she was in LA and needed a break: she drove. Sam found the island's classic rock station on the radio and turned it up. Loud. She put the windows down, pulled her ponytail up into a messy bun and pulled into traffic, heading towards the beach. She tried to turn her brain off for a little bit. Didn't really work, but she put the effort in as Guns 'n' Roses, Journey, Van Halen and Lynryd Skynyrd blared through the speakers.

After a brief drive, Sam found herself at Kakaako Park. As she got out of the car, she couldn't help but take a deep breath. Sure, California had sun, surf, palm trees and their share of citrus but there was nothing – absolutely nothing – better than Hawaii. There was nothing like being home. As she was about to step on to the boardwalk, her cell buzzed. The email she had hoped for had come in.

The 'jacket' of one Detective Daniel Williams. She smiled down at her phone. It was good to know she still had people she could call when she needed them.

Sam walked along the boardwalk for a bit before finding an empty picnic table to climb on. She read through what she could on the small screen and discovered this Williams character actually seemed like a real stand up guy, the kind you want watching your back. Sam started to feel like this he was being railroaded, handed an impossible case. Jersey cop or not, there was very little in his background that she could find that would prepare him for catching the likes of Victor Hesse.

Sam closed the file and stuck her phone in her back pocket. Looking out at the Pacific, she sighed as a single tear ran down her cheek. The effects of yesterday's nightmare, which rolled into last _night's_ nightmare, followed by an excruciatingly long plane ride were starting to take a mental toll.

Get it together, you freak, Sam thought to herself. It was only going to get worse over the next few days.

Sam lost track of time as she just sat and stared at the waves crashing on the beach. She nearly missed the vibration of her cell phone.

"Devereaux."

"Miss Devereaux, this is Detective Daniel Williams, HPD. I understand you were looking for me."

Sam was surprised by the fact that she had gotten a return call. This century, even.

"Detective, thank you so much for the return call," Sam started.

"Miss Devereaux…"

"Lieutenant Devereaux," Sam corrected.

"Lieutenant, really?" Danny asked, mildly surprised at the title.

"Yes, LAPD SWAT Lieutenant Samantha Devereaux. I was calling to inquire on the status of one of your cases."

"Really? Which case of mine has garnered interest from LAPD?" Danny asked cautiously.

"The John MacGarrett…murder." Sam choked out the last word, hoping the detective wouldn't catch it.

"MacGarrett? Huh. Well, _Lieutenant_ Devereaux, I'm not sure why LAPD has a vested interest in the murder of an ex-HPD cop who hasn't left the island in years. Perhaps you could shed some light. Or is this of a more… _personal_ nature?"

Dammit.

Maybe the ha'ole isn't quite so stupid after all, Sam thought. Play dumb? Probably not. Go the honest route and hope for the best. And by honest, she meant sentimental.

"Look, Detective Williams, John MacGarrett is…was, my mentor and friend. I was just hoping that I may ask for a little professional courtesy and see where the investigation stood." Sam held her breath.

"Well, uh, I'm very sorry for your loss but as this is an active investigation – and you are not a family member – there is unfortunately nothing I can share with you at this time."

Dammit. She could here it in his voice – there was no way he was going to back down.

"I understand. Thank you for your time," Sam said tersely as she stabbed her finger on the 'end call' icon.

Fine, Sam thought. I'll just do it my damn self.

Frustrated by her phone call with the detective, Sam decided it was time to suck it up and head home.

Home. The word brought a small smile to her face.

Hawaii would always be home to her. Always had been. Then why the hell was she living in LA, she thought. I can't be thinking about that right now, she thought, running her hands down her face. One personal crisis at a time.

Sam headed back up the boardwalk towards her rental. She just reached the car when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

 _Someone's watching me._

Sam kept her sunglasses on as she slowly turned around, as if to take one last look at the ocean. Nothing stood out, but she could still feel it. Someone's eyes were watching her. She intentionally dropped her keys and got down on all fours, as if feeling for them under the car. In actuality she was doing a cursory, visual sweep for an explosive or any other type of device under the car. Seeing nothing and not wanting to draw too much attention, she grabbed the keys and got in the rental. Holding her breath, she started the car. Everything seemed normal.

Normal? Then why did I just act as though I was in the middle of a desert minefield? Sam shook her head as she carefully pulled out of the parking spot.

I'm just imagining things. It's because of the nightmare. Hearing Victor Hesse's name after all this time is what did her in. It's just bringing up bad memories, she tried to convince herself.

Sam kept a vigilant eye at her surroundings as she made her way to the home of Jim & Paula Brookes to pick up Mae. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She hadn't noticed a tail. But still. She felt something was off. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

Sam made her way into the Brookes' neighborhood, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. When she finally mentally kicked herself into submitting to the fact that no one had followed her, Sam drove up to the Brookes' house to see Mae sitting on the porch with Paula, drinking…well, with Paula, you never knew what you were drinking until you were under the table.

Sam had known Jim and Paula Brookes since she was 8 years old, when Jim had been stationed at Pearl with her father. Paula had become fast friends with her mom, Stella, and Sam had befriended their daughter, Tammy. Sam liked Tammy just fine. Everyone had hoped the two girls would become best friends, but Sam was having none of that. She already had a best friend.

Steve MacGarrett.

And no one was replacing him.

Sam smiled at the memories flashing through her head. She was so lost in thought, she jumped when suddenly Mae opened the car door. The two women just looked at one another and grasped hands with sad smiles. Sam silently backed out of the drive and headed for home. The constant glances in the rearview were not lost on Mae.

As Sam slowed the car to pull into their driveway, she took a moment to stop and look at the McGarrett house. Neon yellow crime scene tape was still taped to the front door. Sam's mind wandered as she parked the car. How many nights had she slept there? How many times had she eaten dinner with them on the lanai out back before ignoring the "don't swim for an hour after you eat" rule so she could race Steve down to the beach or just sat with Mary in her lap, braiding the little girl's hair? She had lost count of how many nights she sat on the beach with John, drowning in beer and liquor over Ben's death. John talked her down so many times…

They made their way inside the house, with Sam taking one last weary look outside before she locked the front door and set the alarm. Sam stole a look out the French doors leading to their deck. The urge to walk out those doors, through the yard and around the fence to the beach next door was so strong, Sam felt like she couldn't breathe. She was never going to be able to do that again. He was gone. John was gone and with him a piece of Sam's heart was gone, too. She dropped her bags on the floor where she stood in the middle of the living room and turned to Mae. Without a word, Mae walked over to where she stood and grabbed Sam as she crumpled to the floor. Mae wrapped Sam in her arms.

Mae had always marveled at the tough façade Sam projected. She knew there was so little Sam could tell her about her days in the CIA. The immense burden of what she did in the name of God and country and the fact that she could never speak of it…it scared Mae. Even now, as a SWAT lieutenant, Sam would retreat behind the walls she built to keep her emotions at bay. Every so often, the cracks in the armor would show and when they did, all Mae knew to do was to hold her and love her and pray to whoever was listening to give her girl some peace.

Tonight, the façade was crumbling. Mae was now holding the little girl she held night after night after her parents died. This was the young teen she consoled when her other surrogate mother, Doris McGarrett, died in a horrific car accident. This was the young woman who mourned the loss of the first boy she ever loved and the best friend she felt abandoned by when his father sent him away. This was the human behind the machine that was Samantha Devereaux.

And as quickly as the human had surfaced, the machine re-engaged. After a minute, Sam sat up, squeezed her eyes shut for a brief instant and wiped the tears away. The two women stood as quickly as they had fallen. Squeezing her hand, Sam looked into Mae's eyes and the look Mae saw was one of steely determination. It was the look of a woman on a mission.

And the mission was to put Victor Hesse behind bars.

Or better, in the ground.

Sam cupped Mae's face, kissed her cheek and walked upstairs, bags in hand.

And as soon as Sam was out of sight, a tear escaped. Mae looked heavenward.

"John, you better keep an eye on our girl."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I would just like to say thank you to all of you who have started reading this fanfic. It is my first attempt (ever!) and I am new to the community as a whole. I appreciate the overwhelmingly positive feedback from everyone. I also wish to make a quick apology for the delay in getting this chapter up. I have been slammed at work for the past 10 days and I had to put this - my new creative outlet - on a brief pause. My intent is to try and get a new chapter up every couple of days.**_

 _ **Thank you again, from the bottom of my crazy little heart for your support. I am humbled beyond belief. :)**_

 **NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE**

Sam flipped over onto her back for the umpteenth time. The clock on her phone read 4:42 am. Sleep had, as expected, completely eluded her again. Despite Mae keeping Sam busy, running her ragged her second day on the island, Sam still hadn't been able to sleep. At least that meant no nightmares. Can't have a nightmare when you're wide awake.

Well, in theory.

Giving up, Sam rolled out of bed and made her way downstairs. She was surprised to turn the corner into the kitchen to find Mae standing at the island, her right hand holding a large mug of coffee.

"I heard your gears grinding all night. Figured you could use this," she said with a smile as she handed the steaming coffee off to her niece.

Sam gratefully inhaled the unmistakable scent. "Mmmhmm, you're a savior Mae."

Mae chuckled as she took a sip of her own drink. "Did you solve the case?" Sam just looked at Mae. "That's why you haven't slept the past two nights, right? You're trying to solve John's…you figure it out?"

Sam saw the sadness and grief in Mae's eyes. She and John had been very close, particularly in recent years. They had been more than just neighbors. Mae and John were bonded by grief and loss and it had grown into a very precious, genuine friendship. Sam had always secretly hoped they would call one day and tell her they had just gone ahead and gotten married. Another wave of grief washed over her. She knew this was to be expected. She'd felt it before – when her parents were killed, when Doris MacGarrett died, when Ben…

"Earth to Sam," Mae called out.

"Sorry, Mae. Didn't mean to ignore you. I was just…"

"I know, baby, I know. It's going to be a rough day."

Sam clenched Mae's hand. "For both of us." Sam drew Mae into a hug. "Just like always, it's you and me against the world, eh, Mae?" Sam felt Mae nod against her shoulder. After several moments, they separated, exchanged a look and picked up their mugs. Mae looked down into hers and walked into the dining room.

When Mae stepped back into the kitchen, Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"What? MacGarrett – it's Irish. Hence, Irish whiskey. Shut up."

Sam barked out a laugh at Mae's feistiness but didn't hesitate to pop open the bottle and pour a generous amount of the brown liquid into both mugs. "To John."

"To John," Mae answered, looking heavenward. To break the tension, Mae asked, "Is your uniform ironed?"

Sam chuckled. "Yes, ma'am, I made sure it was done last night." Mae nodded. "Should we eat some breakfast so we don't show up completely schnockered?" Sam got up to grab some food for the two of them. Mae didn't look like she was in the mood, nor the state of mind.

After cooking, eating and cleaning breakfast, the women moved upstairs to get ready for one of the hardest days of their lives.

Sam stared in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a French twist, ready to tuck under her cover. Her uniform was crisp and ironed. The mourning band placed securely over her badge. Sam took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order, grabbed her cover and headed downstairs.

"Ready?" Mae asked.

"As I'll ever be," she replied.

As Mae backed out of the driveway, Sam leaned her head back against the headrest, avoiding looking at the MacGarrett house. Memories were already flooding her brain. Most vivid, at the moment, were the most recent – sitting on the beach behind the house, trading stories with John about the cases she worked on from her time with vice and homicide to more recent stories about SWAT takedowns, the night John took the gun out of her hands…

Too many memories. Too much pain. It had to end.

Sam glanced in her side mirror, watching for a tail. While nothing had seemed out of the ordinary since the park at the beach two days earlier, Sam still felt unsettled. She still felt as if she was being watched.

Lost in thought, Sam hadn't noticed the car had stopped until she felt Mae's hand on her arm.

"Sweetie, we're here."

Sam drew in a deep breath and nodded. As the two got out of the car, Sam heard a voice calling out to Mae. She noticed a tall, older man in an HPD uniform making his way over. As he got closer, Sam realized it was Duke Lukela. She hadn't seen him in years, but he still had the same soft smile he always did. Duke enveloped Mae in a quick hug and gave Sam a quick nod of his head. He was gone as quickly as he had appeared. Mae and Sam moved together towards the church, but Sam was distracted by someone she thought she recognized.

"What is it?" Mae inquired.

"Not sure. I thought I saw someone I knew but I guess not," Sam answered.

"Well, you did grow up here. I wouldn't be surprised if you did recognize some people here. A couple of the guys you went to school with become cops." Sam just grunted in response.

"Let's get inside. I'm sure they'll be starting soon. It's a few minutes to ten."

As Sam and Mae went inside, Sam felt the air being sucked out of her lungs. She couldn't catch her breath, her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, nausea started to bubble up in her throat. Mae felt Sam's hand clench hers and she could feel the tremors beginning to rack her body. "Go," was all Mae said. She knew Sam was about to have a sudden panic attack and needed to get out of the church. "Just go. Do what you need to do." Sam, wide eyed, simply nodded and turned to run out the doors she had just walked through.

Sam made a beeline for the side of the church, hoping to get out of view of the stragglers coming in from the parking lot. Somewhere along the way, Sam dropped her cover on the ground.

Pressing her forehead against the stucco wall, the tears Sam had been fighting for the past few hours were threatening to pour from her eyes. She pressed her hands against the wall in hopes of balancing herself. The last thing she wanted to do in that moment was pass out, face first on the pavement.

Sam was so focused on what was going on in her body that she failed to notice the man walking up behind her. It wasn't until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder that she realized she was not alone.

"Samantha?"

Sam spun around, grabbing the wrist connected to the hand. She quickly released her grip when she found herself face to face with an old friend.

"Chin?"

Sam recognized Chin Ho Kelly immediately. She remembered him attending football games with John, watching Steve play, and the night he arrested her after John sent Steve to the mainland, and how he would stop in to check on John after he retired. Sam had always liked the quiet, Zen-like Chin.

Chin looked at Sam with concern in his eyes. He could tell she was struggling physically. "Samantha? Are you alright?"

With tears shining in her eyes, Sam simply shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't form words. Chin simply looked at her with understanding and concern.

"Tough day, huh? Let's sit." With an arm carefully encircling her waist, Chin led Sam over into a small courtyard with several stone benches, gently guiding her to one on the far side. He took her hand as he sat next to her. He could tell she was on the verge of a panic attack, so he simply rubbed her back with his left hand, allowing Sam a moment to get her breathing under control.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Chin shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I know how much John meant to you. And can I tell you something?" Sam nodded. Chin placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to look in his eyes. "You meant the world to him, too. I know he loved you as much as he loved Mary and Steve." At that, the tears finally fell. Sam lost track of time as she sat there, finally allowing herself to feel the grief she had been trying to lock down for the past several days. Chin just sat next to Sam and held her. He felt both relief and peace as he sat in the floral courtyard, holding the young woman John MacGarrett had always adored. Knowing he couldn't go inside without the stares and judgement of his former colleagues, Chin felt as though this was what he was meant to do today, comfort and protect Samantha Devereaux.

After a while, Sam lifted her head and looked up at Chin with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

"Chin, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I just did that to you."

"Did what, Sam? Grieve?"

"I kept you from being inside the service. Not to mention that fact that I am such a jerk for leaving Mae inside by herself." Sam started to pull away from Chin, but he held her firmly in place.

"I can't go in there," Chin stated quietly. Sam understood what he meant. While she didn't have all the details, she knew Chin had been the victim of some ridiculous accusations and lost his badge. John had told her a little about it but not many details.

"Come in with me. Sit with us," Sam implored. Chin shook his head. "Anyone dares say anything or even look at you funny, I'll show them what LAPD SWAT is all about." They both chuckled, knowing full well that Sam most certainly would.

Handing her back her cover, which he picked up before approaching her, Chin smiled at her. "He was so incredibly proud of you, Sam. He talked about you all the time."

It was Sam's turn to simply nod and once again, she tried to fight back the tears. "Then I owe it to him to get my sorry ass up off this bench and get inside, don't I?"

"You do what want to do, what you need to do, Sam. John won't judge you, you know he won't. And I know enough about you to know you don't care what anyone else inside that building thinks," Chin paused. "Well, no one except Mae. And Steve."

Sam just gave Chin a lopsided grin and shook her head. They stood up and Sam pulled Chin into a tight hug. "Mahalo."

"It was my pleasure and an honor, Lieutenant," Chin said with a mock salute after breaking the hug.

Sam slowly walked away, part of her still hoping Chin would follow her. She was disappointed to get to the doors of the church and realize he wasn't behind her. She looked at her watch and realized she had lost nearly half an hour. Before opening the door, Sam looked to the beautiful, clear blue sky. "You did this on purpose didn't you, you old coot? You made me have a freaking panic attack so I'd miss nearly the entire service. Because I am sure you planned it to the most minute degree, probably timed it out," Sam whispered out loud. She chuckled at the thought, but she did feel a sense of calm and peace settle over her. She could have sworn she felt a hand on her shoulder again. She turned and found no one there. She smiled. John, she thought. He's right there on my shoulder, like always.

Taking a deep breath, Sam quietly opened the door to the church and made her way to the sanctuary. Thankfully, the doors were open, so she stepped inside, scanning the crowd for Mae's strawberry blonde head. But it was the head of brown hair in the front pew that caught her eye first. Sitting ramrod straight in his dress blues was Steve. Sam felt her breath catch in her throat, knowing this was the first time in years since they had been in the same place at the same time. 2008 didn't count. He didn't know she was there and with any luck, it would stay that way. Trying to shake those images from her mind, Sam caught something in her peripheral vision and turned slightly to her left, where she found Mae's eyes boring into her own. Sam made her way to the pew and managed to silently squeeze in on the end next to her aunt. Mae's eyes looked at her inquisitively. Sam simply shook her head once, as if to say, 'not now'.

As Sam had suspected, the service was practically over. She realized she was grateful to be in the back. Even though the casket was closed for obvious reasons, Sam couldn't bear to be that close to John at that moment, knowing how he died.

The priest relayed the burial information to the crowd and everyone stood as the pallbearers made their way down the aisle. The burning in her eyes forced Sam to drop her head and look away from the casket. She silently cursed herself, chastised herself for being such a crybaby. She was ex-CIA and now part of one of the most elite SWAT teams in the world. Didn't work. Because it was John. Sam felt like she had lost her father all over again.

While Sam stood in the back row, berating herself, she missed the fact that a certain Navy SEAL had looked in her direction. Steve recognized Mae but it took a second to realize the tall red head in the police uniform next to her was Sam. Mae and Steve acknowledged each other briefly as he made his way out of the church. When Mae turned to say something to Sam, she realized her eyes were closed and a stray tear had made its way down her cheek. Sam seemed to be mouthing something to herself, completely lost in her own world. She opened her eyes when she felt Mae's hand on her arm.

"Sweetie?"

"Sorry, Mae," Sam started to say but Mae held up a hand to stop her.

Quietly, Mae leaned into her. "You do not owe me or anyone else an explanation. John understands."

Sam covered Mae's hand with her own. "That's what Chin said to me outside."

"Chin Ho Kelly was here?" Mae asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes. He came up behind me as I was having…a moment. He sat with me for a bit and let me work through it. I can see why John respected him so much. Chin's a really wonderful man. Too bad HPD didn't see that," Sam replied bitterly. Mae simply nodded her head but looked around to see if anyone had heard their exchange. Most HPD officers were not fond of Chin. Luckily, the processional of officers had thinned out and the sanctuary was only occupied by about a dozen or so cops and a few civilians.

"I agree but that's not something to talk about in a church full of Honolulu's finest," Mae stated. "Let's get out of here. Are you up to the cemetery or…"

"Yes, we need to be there." Mae nodded at her niece and the two linked arms and made their way out to the parking lot.

As they climbed into the car, Mae stole a glance at Sam. "Did you see him?"

Sam smiled out the window. "If by 'him', you mean Steve, yeah. Sorta."

"Sorta?"

"I saw the back of his head and shoulders, which is more than I've seen in 18 years," Sam retorted. She couldn't mention 2008. It was still highly classified information that not even Steve knew about. The only people who knew Sam was in that village in Fallujah were Matty, Jazz and Cruz. Well, the only people _alive_. Everyone else, including Ben, was dead.

Mae let the bitterness she heard slide. Sam was exhausted and on edge. That was never a good combination to push so Mae let it go. They drove in silence the rest of the way.

Once Mae parked the car, Sam got out and stared down at the spot where John was about to be laid to rest. She took a deep breath and looked back at Mae. She knew what was about to happen.

When Samuel and Stella Devereaux died, the MacGarrett family took Sam in for the brief time it took to find Mae, who was on vacation in London, and get her on the next flight to Honolulu. Samuel had borrowed a friend's helicopter and took Stella on a weekend trip to a private resort up in the mountains. Sam stayed at the MacGarretts house for the three days they were gone. On their way back from their romantic getaway, mechanical failure forced the helicopter to crash land in a remote part of the island. It took several days to find the wreckage. When the couple were buried, the MacGarrett family stood beside Mae and Sam. Steve wouldn't leave his best friend's side, holding her hand throughout the service and burial. When Doris MacGarrett died in a fiery car crash, Sam wouldn't leave her best friend's side, holding his hand throughout the service and burial. Sam kicked herself for missing today's service, but she was bound and determined to be there for Steve now, as his father was laid in his final resting place.

Sam walked down the slope of the cemetery, her eyes never leaving the back of Steve's head. Before anyone could get the chance to stand next to him, Sam walked right up to the seat adjacent to Steve. After a moment but without so much as a sideways glance, Sam laced her fingers with his. She felt a little resistance, as if Steve was surprised to have someone holding his hand. But it was quickly followed by a gentle squeeze. While neither of them turned to acknowledge the other, they both realized there was no reason to. Eighteen years and thousands of miles of distance disappeared, and they were once again two kids, mourning the loss of their parents.

The grave side service was even briefer than the church. Once it ended, Sam finally turned to look Steve in the eye. Without a single word, the two wrapped their arms around each other and held on for the briefest of moments before pulling back. Both seemed to have so much to say but didn't know how to say it. So instead, Steve leaned over and placed a kiss on Sam's cheek and whispered in her ear. "Thank you, Red." And before she could respond, he was gone.

Sam let out a deep breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. What just happened? Or more like, what _didn't_ just happen, she thought. Sam couldn't decide if she was upset or relieved. Was she upset because she had thought – or more like _hoped_ – Steve would want to talk to her about the last 18 years of their lives? Or was she relieved because if Steve had written her off years ago, that made going after Victor Hesse a lot easier on her?

Sam turned back to the casket. She looked around to ensure no one would overhear what she had to say. Laying her hand on John McGarrett's casket, the words she desperately wanted to say wouldn't come.

"I…there's so much…I can't…" Sam couldn't get out what she needed to say. The guilt she felt weighed so heavily she couldn't even complete a sentence. She knew he would have understood, would have put an arm around her shoulders and told her to let it go. The guilt would kill her if she let it. He had told her that once. That guilt had a way of eating you up and spitting you out before it came back for seconds. She tried to start again, but the path from her brain to her mouth had apparently shut down. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and simply leaned over and placed a light kiss on the smooth wood of the casket and whispered, "I love you, Pops." She dropped her forehead against the cool wood and said a brief prayer before pushing herself away.

From above, Mae watched her niece struggle. There was little she could do. She knew Sam was eaten up with guilt and grief and responsibility that was not hers to bear. Mae looked to the skies and sent a prayer of her own that she hoped would be answered, to give her beloved niece something she hasn't had in years.

Peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Once again, I want to thank everyone for continuing to be interested in the story of Sam Devereaux. I am trying to get into a better pattern of writing more consistently and therefore posting a little more frequently.**

 **So, here is the point in the story where my character, Sam, officially "joins" the world of 5-0. My vision for this story not only includes original content/cases/characters/etc., but also intertwines them with the existing canon of the show. As such, you will begin to see some story lines change to fit where I am taking Sam's current life and filling in her back story. I have noticed that my original concept is already started to change a bit. I hope to continue to entertain you with the world I am building.**

 **Again, thank you for your support and kind words. :)**

 **Now - here's when Sam and Steve collide.**

 **BACK IN BLACK**

As they started the drive back to the house, Sam finally felt herself starting to calm down, finally compartmentalizing as she had been taught. Her breathing under control, her heart rate slower, Sam took a deep breath and watched the beautiful scenery of the island go by. She also started formulating a plan on what she needed to do moving forward.

Mae glanced over at her passenger. She knew Sam was up to something in that crazy brain of hers. Hoping to distract her a little longer, hoping she could stop 'crazy' from happening the minute they stepped over the threshold, Mae pondered what she could say to catch Sam off guard. Throw her a little. So, she went for the jugular.

"He looked damn good," Mae said, with a little growl in her voice.

Sam barked out a laugh that ended up in a snort, causing both women to bust out laughing. "Yeah. Yeah, he did," Sam conceded, quietly. "He definitely filled out those dress blues nicely."

"I noticed you guys didn't talk much," she fished.

"Nah. It's okay. I did what I came to do," Sam replied. The hint of sadness in her voice was different than Mae had heard the past few days. This sadness had nothing to do with John and everything to do with Steve. Mae had been there for the four years between the deaths of the Devereauxs and Doris MacGarrett. She had seen what an utter handful Sam and Steve had been together, but they were also so loyal to each other, always looking out for each other, always there when the other needed it. Mae knew how heartbroken Sam had been when Steve left, when John sent him away. To Mae, it seemed as if it was a loss Sam never truly got over.

Seeing Sam slip back into a melancholy she was scared would start to consume her, Mae went for another distraction. "How about we stop at Kimo's for lunch? I think we could use the sustenance," Mae said.

"Sure, Mae, that sounds good," Sam responded with a small smile.

After lunch at their favorite little café, Mae suggested taking a walk along the beach, once again stalling for time to get Sam's frame of mind straight. "Mae, do I really look like I'm in beach walking attire?" Sam asked with a lopsided grin, gesturing to the rather warm dress uniform she was still wearing. Mae acquiesced.

"Ah, you're right. Sorry. I imagine you're a little itchy and probably about to keel over from the heat stroke," Mae joked.

"Um, yep, pretty accurate," Sam chuckled. They made their way to the car and headed for home.

Sam once again couldn't keep her eyes off the house next door as they passed. She had come up with a few ideas while at lunch, in between Mae's constant barrage of stories of old family friends. Sam knew Mae was trying to distract her. Sam also knew that _Mae_ knew it wasn't going to work but she was going to try anyways. Just another reason Sam loved and revered her Aunt Mae. The woman didn't know when to quit, when to take no for an answer and she absolutely refused to give up, no matter what. I guess that's where I get it from, Sam thought with a smile.

Once inside the house, Sam made her way upstairs, making excuses about wanting to get changed and rest. Mae knew better but she was also keenly aware of the fact that not one single thing she said or did was going to change Sam's mind. Mae just hoped she didn't to have arrange to have bail money at the ready before the afternoon was over.

"Well sweetie, if you're going to lie down for a bit, I think I'm going to make some tea and follow suit, if you don't mind. I'm sure if you can't rest, you'll find something…constructive to do."

Sam snickered. Mae Devereaux would have made a good agent. Hmm, maybe she had been at some point, given all the travelling she did when Sam was young. I never thought of running her through any databases, Sam thought, only half-jokingly. But, for the moment, she simply said, "I understand. It's been a rough morning. Get some rest."

Mae smiled at her and went into the kitchen, shaking her head and sighing.

Sam climbed the stairs to her room and peeled off the blazing hot uniform. Pulling her hair out of the tight, headache-inducing French twist, she put it back into a ponytail. After throwing on a black ensemble of a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she changed into her favorite pair of matching boots. Back in black, Sam thought as she looked in the mirror. For some reason, Sam always felt all black attire like this equaled better spying. Silly, she knew, but all agents have their quirks, superstitions, and 'things'. Black had always been her go to color-of-choice when it came to her wardrobe. But after running an inventory of what she needed through her head, she changed her mind and stripped off the jeans for a more practical pair of cargo pants. She loaded them up with her lock picks, phone for photos, a small flashlight, and she grabbed her badge just to be safe. Sliding her Glock into the back of her waistband, pulling her t-shirt over the outline of the gun, she waited until she heard Mae close her door before she left her own room. Sam quietly went downstairs and walked into the oversized pantry, pulling out a few pairs of gloves. Mae loved to cook and ate her steak as bloody as the next guy, but she was completely grossed out by actually having to _touch_ raw meat. Sam said a silent thanks that she always had a bulk supply of food grade, nitrile gloves stashed away. They were nearly identical to the black latex gloves she had used at crime scenes over the years.

Sam walked out the back French doors, making a bee line for the edge of the fence that separated the Devereaux property from the McGarrett's. Sam stuck her head around and made sure the yard was empty and quietly made her way along the fence line, ducking under the police tape on the lanai and knelt at the back door, pulling on the gloves. She made quick work of picking the lock, silently stepping into the home she knew like the back of her hand. After all, she had basically grown up in this house, spending just as much time there as her own.

Taking a deep breath, Sam advanced into the den. A sob stuck in her throat as she stood in the space where John, the man who had _saved_ her life, had lost his in the one of the ugliest, most violent of ways. She felt cold standing there, as if with his death, the warmth that had always wrapped itself around her had died, too. What had once been her safe space, now, wasn't. Victor Hesse took that away. It was no more evident than the moment Sam's eyes settled on the wall. Like a punch to the gut, a wave of nausea swept over Sam as she stared at the blood. John's blood. As the panic attack Chin had helped her stave off earlier began to roar to life again, with a vengeance, she was spared by a noise coming from the garage. Like a flip of a switch, Sam was back in complete control of her faculties. She yanked off her gloves, stuffed them in her pocket and grabbed her Glock out of her waistband.

Sam quietly released the safety on the gun and stealthily made her way to the garage door. Listening carefully, it sounded as though whoever was in the garage was around the Marquis. She heard the rustle of the car cover being removed. Man, John loved that car. She had spent hours with him in the garage after Munich. John had dragged her into the project, believing that somehow, some way, it would help Sam's healing begin. And as usual, John had been right. They continued to work on the car when Sam would come home for holidays or vacations from LA, hoping they would be able to take it out at some point.

Shaking the newest flood of memories from her mind to focus on the intruder on the other side of the door, Sam carefully turned the knob. Praying the door wouldn't squeak and give away the element of surprise, she slowly swept her eyes over the space. While the afternoon sunlight poured through the small window on the opposite wall, the garage was still dimly lit. It took a second for her eyes to focus and once they did, she located the figure of a man crouching down by the work bench. He had his back to her. Moving in on the target, she was taken by surprise when the he swung around, grabbed her and in one swift move, had pinned her face first against the Marquis. Sam countered just as fast and reversed the pin, sticking the muzzle of her gun between the intruder's eyes before recognition set in.

"Steve! You ass!" Sam growled.

The surprise was evident on Steve's face. But then, for a second, it looked as though…he was having _fun_. And sure enough, he gave her his best Cheshire cat grin.

"Good way to get yourself shot, you idiot," Sam said haughtily as she placed her gun back in her waistband.

"Um, this is my father's house, so good way to get _yourself_ shot," Steve said as he showed her the gun in his hand. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Sam bit the corner of her lip, as she always did when she got caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Pondering how he would react, she just stuck her right hand into her pocket and held up her lock picks. Steve's eyebrow shot up. Sam rolled her eyes. "As I was planning on technically breaking and entering an active crime scene, I figured why implicate Mae by asking for her keys." Steve looked at her strangely for a brief instant when she said Mae had keys to his father's house. Then the SEAL mask was back in place.

The pair just stared at each other for a minute. It wasn't awkward, as Sam predicted it would be. More, bittersweet, she thought. Sam's gaze softened and without thinking, grabbed the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was slightly surprised when, without hesitation, Steve wrapped his muscular arms around her torso and hugged her back. Tightly.

"I'm so sorry." Sam whispered, stroking the back of his head.

"Me too."

They held on for another moment before breaking the embrace, but remaining in each other's personal space. They just looked at each other for another moment before Sam broke the silence and said, "We need to talk."

"I know it's been a long time, and with the way we left things…I wanted to reach out, Sam, really I did. It's just…" Steve struggled to find the right words.

"Steve," she interrupted, placing her fingers on his lips. It was an innocent gesture that turned into an intimate moment between them neither had been expecting. Sam swallowed hard before removing her hand from his mouth, continuing. "Yeah, I want to talk about that, too, but there are way more pressing matters we need to address. First…"

"Sam, I swear to you, Mae is safe here." Steve knew Mae was the only family Sam had left and he would protect that with his life. In hopes of reassuring her, he continued. "I will personally see to it that she is watched and protected. But I promise you, this will not touch her."

Sam smiled sadly at Steve. He really had no idea, did he? Better than anyone, Sam knew he couldn't promise that. "So, you're looking me in the eyes and telling me that Mae is safe?"

"Yes."

"From Victor Hesse?" Steve's eyes widened slightly at Sam's question, particularly the emphasis on Hesse's name. She continued, softly. "Yeah, I know it was Victor Hesse." Tears threatened yet again.

Sam could see in his eyes that he was fighting an internal war. What was it, she wondered as he started to speak. "You know about Hesse?"

"Yeah, Blue, I know about Hesse. I know it all," Sam confessed. Steve's reaction to her childhood nickname for him quickly transformed from playful into one of surprise and something she didn't quite recognize. Perhaps it was fear.

"You know it all, Red? Really? How could you possibly know it all?"

"Didn't you ever wonder what happened to me?" Sam meant for it to be a segue into a brief explanation of her life in intelligence. But it was also a sad query – had he _ever_ thought about her? About them? Had he missed her, had he tried to contact her, had he even _wanted_ to? Sam would have settled for anything at this point, which if she was honest, made her feel like a silly little girl. So, she was taken by complete surprise at his answer.

"Every day, Sam. Every, single day." Steve placed his right hand on the side of her face. The two briefly got lost in each other's eyes. Sam's were full of surprise and bittersweet pain at Steve's confession while Steve's were filled with sorrow. They had lost so much at such a young age, most of all they had lost each other. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip as he leaned down…

"Hands up, don't move!"

Within the blink of an eye, Steve, Sam and some blonde ha'ole had drawn their weapons on each other and the two men engaged in a shouting match. Sam just stared at Steve when she realized he had flipped her around behind him, in protection mode.

"Boys. Boys! HEY!" Sam yelled. Silence. "Hmm, ooh, thought. Why don't we all show each other our badges and clear this right up?" The two men looked at her with a look that was a cross between 'she's grown a 2nd head' and 'that makes sense'. Sam loudly whispered in Steve's ear. "And if you _ever_ pull the soccer mom arm slash women & children behind the big bad SEAL move on me again, I will throat punch you." Steve gave her a dirty look and rolled his eyes.

The two men went on to argue that neither were putting their gun down. Sam rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she wasn't putting her gun down either.

Finally agreeing to pull out IDs on the count of three, everyone reached for their credentials. "One. Two. Three." The blonde was Detective Daniel Williams, Honolulu Police Department. Aha, Sam thought. So, _this_ was the guy she planned on giving a hard time after his refusal to give into her request for some interagency cooperation. Huh, she thought. Not bad.

"Lieutenant Devereaux? We spoke the other day, right?" Danny asked. Steve shot her a look, which she ignored.

"Yes, Detective Williams. You were less than inclined to, how shall I say, throw me a bone," Sam replied playfully. Danny turned his attention to Steve.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about your father, but you can't be here right now," Danny said to Steve. While they exchanged a few barbs, Sam studied Detective Williams. Jersey accent. Tie. Too much hair product. She smiled inwardly, thinking how fun he would be to tease and mess with. He seemed like the kind of cop she would want on her side. She got a good vibe from him, despite their initial interaction and the current state of affairs. And he was pretty cute, too. Before she could get any further with her assessment of the cute cop, Steve grabbed John's red tool box from the work bench with one hand and Sam's hand with his other.

"Leave the box or get arrested," Danny said.

"All right," Steve said. "Gonna call for backup?"

"An ambulance," Danny replied. Sam had to duck her head to hide her snicker. She was surprised when Steve put the box down on the back of the Marquis and looked at her. She couldn't read the look on his face. The way he was staring into her eyes, it was as though he was trying to read her, figure out what she was thinking. There was a brief moment that passed between them before he spoke.

"Wanna find some trouble, Red?" Steve asked her with a twinkle in his eyes and an incredibly sexy lopsided grin on his face.

"With you, Blue? Hell yeah," Sam instantly replied. She couldn't help but smirk. Yet another little back-and-forth thing they used to say to each other as kids. Sam shook her head slightly. Feelings – lots and lots of feelings – were happening. They were settling into their old verbal sparring in less than five minutes, despite being separated for nearly two decades. How was that possible, Sam wondered. Yet, it felt good, it felt right. It also felt like, all of a sudden, Sam knew her world was going to turn upside down. Again. She resumed chewing on the left corner of her lip, unsure of what direction this was going to take her.

Before Sam or Danny knew what was happening, Steve was on the phone with Governor Pat Jameson. Looking into Sam's eyes, Steve said, "Governor, I'll take the job. No, let's just say I found some things that changed my mind."

"Take the job?" Sam mouthed at him, which simply elicited a wink. Next thing she knows, she's listening to him take an oath. What the hell is going on, she thought. Steve didn't break eye contact with her until he hung up the phone and once again grabbed the tool box. And Sam's hand.

"Now it's my crime scene." And with that, Steve pulled Sam through the door. She had the courtesy to at least shrug in empathy and throw a look of apology at Danny, who was standing there with his jaw wide open. Sam simply stared at the back of Steve's head as he dragged her out of his father's house.


	6. Chapter 6

**MAMA, I'M COMIN' HOME**

Steve's adrenaline had obviously kicked into high gear, as he was practically dragging Sam out the back door. They didn't stop until they rounded the corner of the fence separating the two yards. Steve pulled Sam around to face him. Sam, flushed and slightly out of breath from the hasty retreat and her own rush of adrenaline, looked at a stunned Steve and started laughing as he placed the tool box on the ground.

"What?" Steve asked.

"What?" Sam retorted. "What the hell just happened?" Her giggling fit continued. Despite all the years that had passed, it felt completely normal to be standing there in her yard with Steve, laughing at what had just transpired, like they were ten years old again, having just gotten away with one of their infamous pranks. Lost in the revelry of the moment, his next question knocked her completely off guard.

"So, Red, whaddaya say?" Steve's eyes were full of mischief.

"To what?"

"The job offer," Sam stilled at Steve's words. Job offer? What job offer, she thought. Steve took another half step into her personal space. At the look of confusion in her eyes, Steve explained. "The offer I just made you in the garage."

" _That_ was a job offer?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I mean, if you need it in writing…" he answered. Sam stared at Steve for a long moment, trying to process what he was saying. Steve chuckled at Sam as she kept opening and closing her mouth, at a loss for words. "Earth to Sam."

"Not writing," Sam said, snapping out of her trance and running her free hand through her hair. "But in plain English would be great because I am seriously confused at the moment as to what just happened. Did you…did you just quit…" Realization quickly hit Sam as she replayed the exchange in her head. She grabbed the front of Steve's shirt with her free hand. "Oh my God," she laughed at the thought. "Did you just quit the Navy?"

Steve laughed with her. "Well, you don't actually _quit_ the Navy, but for all intents and purposes….yeah, I guess I did just kinda quit the Navy." They just stared at each other for a brief moment before another fit of laughter overtook them. This was totally insane, they both thought.

Coming down from the silly high, Steve shrugged and continued. "I'm going to transfer to the reserves and run the Governor's new task force. Jameson had me, well, _delivered,_ to the Arizona when I landed this morning," Steve paused, realizing how little time he had been back in Oahu and how much had happened. In less than twelve hours, he'd buried his father, agreed to a new job and was standing inches from Sam for the first time in years. He found it difficult to breathe for a moment. Not only because of the enormity of what had happened in such a brief amount of time but because of where he was in _this_ moment in time. He was in a place he never thought he would be again. Here he was, on _their_ beach, holding _her_ hand and staring into those stormy eyes that had haunted him all these years. Steve took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before continuing his explanation.

"Jameson wants this task force created to help combat crime on the island. I'm not stupid and I told her as much. She's looking for PR points, votes, whatever. Did using Dad's death as emotional blackmail piss me off, sure. But, she is offering full immunity and means to take Hesse and guys like him off the streets for good." Steve's excitement was beginning to grow at the possibility. The possibility to do it with Sam was even more enticing. "We can make a serious difference around here. Things have gotten have really bad, between the Yakuza and rival gangs, drug, weapon and human trafficking has significantly increase. We need to take back our island. We can do this."

Sam looked up at him questioningly. "We?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah, Red. We."

Confused and unsure of what to say, all Sam could do was stare up into Steve's eyes, hoping an answer would materialize. He wants her on the task force? But…why? Her mind raced at the possibilities that opened up. A chance to come home, to be with Mae, to maybe – just maybe – explore the future she was supposed to have with Steve. But then, thoughts of her past, of Hesse, of what she had been through and things she had done were invading those happy possibilities, chewing away at the frame of her thoughts like maggots. Within the span of seconds, hope and joy were quickly replaced with anxiety and fear. She felt torn and unsure, feelings she had learned long ago to lock away and here they were, wreaking havoc on her present.

Steve gave her a quizzical look, noting the change in her face. He was a skilled interrogator, able to read suspects and witnesses quickly and efficiently and rarely was he wrong. But now that the one person – the _first_ person, actually – that he could read like a book was standing in front of him and he was struggling to figure out what was going on in those grey blue eyes he had missed so much. He squeezed the hand he was still holding and brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear, causing another moment of intimacy that caught them slightly off guard. "Sam?" he prodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "What's going on in that head of yours?" The fingers that trailed down from her temple to her jawline sent a shudder down Sam's spine. "Hey. Talk to me," he said.

Sam took a deep breath, still unsure of what was transpiring. They were so close. The physical proximity was making her stupid, she thought. She took a moment to make sure that what was coming out of her mouth was going through her brain-to-mouth filter so as to not embarrass herself any further.

"So that we're clear, you're leaving active duty to run a task force that will, as it's first order of business, take down Victor Hesse, after such time you will then remain here, in Hawaii, and become a cop? Am I following so far?"

Steve shrugged. "Basically. I guess. Jameson and I haven't worked out the details. But I think, essentially, yes. That is exactly what's going to happen."

"And you want me to join the task force with you? As what, your partner?" Sam queried, feeling like an idiot for not grasping what she was sure was a very simple concept, now if only her brain would catch on.

Steve took a half step towards her, staring down intently into her eyes. The moment, once again, became incredibly intimate. He leaned in so close, the tips of their noses touched. In a husky near whisper, he made one gentle demand, "Say yes."

"Yes," Sam whispered breathlessly, without hesitation, before she really knew what she was doing. Their hands still entwined, the closeness of their bodies, their lips, all it would take was just moving a fraction of an inch…

At that moment, Sam heard the French doors slam shut and heard Mae call out. "So…what have you two been up to?" she asked.

Steve winked at Sam before leaning down to pick up the toolbox. He looked up and smiled at Mae before he put his lips against Sam's ear, whispering as they finished crossing the yard. "I am so getting brownie points with Aunt Mae for bringing her girl home."

Sam just looked up at him and laughed. He would, she thought. Mae would be thrilled to have her back here full time. Lagging slightly behind Steve, Sam's mind was buzzing. Wait, what was she doing? What had just happened? This was insane. She couldn't just drop everything and move back to Hawaii, could she? No. She had a house in LA, a spot on one of the most coveted tactical teams in the world in SWAT, she had a life there. Kind of. She couldn't just chuck all the hard work of the past five years out the window and come home to play cops and robbers with the likes of Steven MacGarrett. No, she couldn't.

Or could she?

The flood of contradictions in her mind had Sam reeling. In less than 30 minutes, her life had been flipped on it's ear. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. Especially with Steve MacGarrett around, she thought, smiling.

As they reached the lanai, Sam looked up and saw her Aunt Mae. She _really_ saw Aunt Mae and the smile on her face faded. She took in the puffy, red eyes Mae tried to hide for their sakes. How frail she suddenly seemed. Sam had always looked at Mae like she could walk on water. She was the embodiment of a superhero to 12 year old Sam for dropping everything and rushing to her side when her parents died, making sure she didn't end up in foster care or worse. No matter how many years passed, Mae's strength and vitality and passion were what Sam used to inspire her own strength. There were moments where she was convinced it saved her life. Now, as she stood just several feet away from the woman she idolized and loved more than anything in the world, Sam saw the time, the pain, the heartache that she missed while spending all these years chasing bad guys all over the world. Sam's body was covered in scars from being stabbed, shot, beaten. But she realized in that moment, Mae was the one who had the worst scars. She had the emotional scars of sitting in Hawaii, waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for the call that Sam had taken one too many hits. The call that started with 'we are sorry to inform you'. The ton of bricks that hit Sam in that moment nearly brought her to her knees, like Mae's words had done just a few days ago, except then, there was an ocean between them. Now, it was only several steps and she couldn't believe how she had missed it. It broke her heart. And in that instant, she knew she had her answer.

Sam most definitely could leave LA behind and come home. If for no other reason than the fact that after all the years of caring for, supporting and consoling Sam, Mae deserved that and so much more. Sam could do this for Mae. No matter what happened with Steve, or the task force, or anything else, for the first time in years, Sam took the time to really look at Mae and see that Mae needed Sam. The onslaught of fears, questions and concerns just disappeared. Sam was saying yes, for Mae.

Mae looked from one to the other, noticing their hands were clenched together. She asked again, "Seriously, tell me what you guys have been up to?" She looked from one to the other before putting her hand up to stop Steve when he opened his mouth. "Wait. No, never mind. Scratch that, I think it's better if I don't know considering I just watched you two come around the back fence and you're holding your father's toolbox in your hand. One that was in his garage the other day. I can't get my hands on that much bail money right now."

Giving her one of his wicked grins, Steve said, "Well, it is _my_ crime scene now, so, I can do with the evidence as I see fit."

" _Your_ crime scene?" Mae asked, an eyebrow raised. Grin still firmly in place, Steve went on to explain what had just transpired, including the job offer to Sam.

Mae turned and looked down at Sam seeking confirmation of what she just heard. "You're coming home?" she asked, voice breaking in joy, as she cupped Sam's face in her hands. Sam's eyes started to well up with tears and it was all she could do to hold them back, so she simply nodded. Mae cried out in joy and looked up appreciatively at Steve and wrapped her arms around both of them. This was the best possible news for Mae after everything that had happened over the previous few days. She started rattling off questions not seeing the look on Sam's face. But Steve did.

"Ok, so you're going to have to sell the house, get all the cars shipped because I know selling them is out of the question. So, logistics is the first thing we'll tackle. Obviously, you'll stay here until you find a place, unless you want the house and then I can buy a condo or something. Red! Oh, we have to make sure we can get a crate big enough for that beast. And Glenn. Oh, he is going to be so disappointed to be losing you but secretly thrilled that he doesn't have to deal with the Javi fallout. How soon do you need her to start, Steve? I could probably just go ahead and go to LA without you and get everything figured out. Ohh, except for your stash. _That_ I want no part in. You're on your own on that one."

As Mae rambled and more and more fell out of her mouth – Javi, for one thing – Sam felt her face catch fire. She attempted to interrupt but Mae was off in her own little world, for she had found something she could make sense of and take control of.

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! Mae, take a freaking breath!" Sam said loudly but with a little bit of a laugh underneath of it. Running her free hand down Mae's arm, Sam tried to slow Steamroller Mae down. "Mae. First of all, yes, I will stay here but it will only be temporary. This has been _your_ home for over twenty years. Now, if you _want_ a condo, then do what you want. I'm not kicking you out and taking over. Let's just take this one step at a time. As for Glenn and SWAT," she turned to Steve. "I owe it to them to go back and tell them, in person, that I'm leaving. They've given me a home, a team, a family, for the past three years and I really need to look Glenn in the eyes when I tell him I'm leaving."

Steve respected that. "That's not a problem. We'll work it out."

Mae pulled them into another embrace and kissed each of them on the cheek, followed by a wink. "I'm going to give you two some time to talk. If you need me, I'm going to throw dinner together while I start making lists," Mae said, making her way into the house.

"I thought we were going to go out," Sam reminded.

Ignoring Sam's reminder, Mae looked back at Steve. "Steven, I'm making my lasagna, so I hope you brought your appetite."

"Your lasagna? How could I possibly pass that up? My mouth's watering already!" Steve said to Mae, waiting for her to close the doors behind her before turning to look at Sam.

If Sam would admit it to herself, that stare was making her more than slightly nervous. The air suddenly felt thick and heavy. Unsure of what to say, where to start, Sam struggled to form a coherent sentence. Steve patiently stood there waiting for her to figure out what she wanted to say.

Feeling like she couldn't catch her breath, without a word, Sam finally released Steve's right hand with a small squeeze and walked past him, heading towards the to the beach. As she sat down, she felt Steve walk up beside her. After a moment, he sat down next to her in the sand, leaning into her shoulder. Sam sighed. Despite the ocean in front of her and the man beside her, she felt ill at ease in a moment that should have had her more content than she had been in a long time. Steve could feel the tension rolling off of her. Concerned, he wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her back. He put his lips against her ear and whispering, "You okay? I could have sworn I detected a little freak out moment back there while Mae was rattling off her list."

Sam huffed out the breath she had been holding. There it is again. He could still read her like a book. That scared her. It had been so long, so many years, there was no way they should be _that_ in tune with each other. Yet, she couldn't deny that so far, he had been spot on. Sam involuntarily touched her thigh, the scar from Hesse's bullet still prominent. It had hurt like a bitch, she remembered. Well, she thought, all _three_ hurt like a bitch.

Hesse. This was all happening because of Hesse. Finding and capturing him meant he spent the rest of his miserable life in prison. But that wasn't where he belonged. She wanted him sent straight to Hell.

And one way or another, she would make sure he was.

The only other question was…

Then what?

"I can't do it," she started.

"Do what?" he asked suspiciously, fearful that she had changed her mind just as quickly as she had made her earlier decision. Sam took a steadying breath and turned to face Steve.

"I can't slap a pair of cuffs on Hesse and just watch him sit in a jail cell while some fancy lawyer tap dances around a bunch of technicalities and his minions pull bail money together. I can't watch him get out and disappear. I can't do that. Not again."

He remained silent, his face blank, impassive. It unnerved her. He had to have known. _She_ knew. She knew Steve had been chasing Hesse all over the place, practically since her mission failed. He had to have known that the reason the Hesse brothers had fallen into his lap was because the CIA straight up fucked up and lost multiple covert operatives in an attempt to take the brothers down for good. Steve had to have read the file and even though much would have been redacted, Sam couldn't imagine that her name had been. By that point, she was done. She was damaged goods – badly damaged – and the CIA had washed their hands of her.

"Say something," she whispered. He barely heard her above the surf, but he never broke eye contact. He knew this was hard for her. He also knew he had to protect her. By any means necessary.

"Who's Javi?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Who's Javi?" Steve repeated. The question was twofold – it would distract her and it would satisfy his curiosity about who this joker was.

"That's what you have to say after I basically tell you that I'll put a bullet in a suspect's skull instead of handcuffs? What is wrong with you?" With a look of disgust on her face, Sam stood up and tried to walk away, but Steve was fast and he was on his feet before she could more than two steps away from him. He grabbed her left elbow and whipped her around to look at him, their bodies unintentionally slamming into each other.

"What do you want me to say, Sam? I want to put a bullet in his skull, too," he said, staring intently down into her eyes. It was his next statement that both confirmed and shocked her. "And not just for my dad. For you, too." The last three words were strangled as they left his lips and she knew in that moment that he knew most, if not all, of what happened to her. Or at least as much as she had been able to remember. Sam started to chew the side of her mouth, illiciting both a smile and a head shake from Steve, who tried to pull her lip out from her between her teeth with his thumb.

"You know." A simple statement. Steve nodded. Sam broke eye contact and looked out past Steve's left arm at the ocean behind him. There it is, she thought. So, he's read the file. Well, he's read the agency's file. He hasn't read mine, she thought. Lost in her thoughts and nightmarish memories, Sam didn't realize until it had happened that Steve had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, clutching her close to his chest. She could feel his heart beat as she laid her head against him. Sam felt a protective calm wash over her as she settled into the embrace. God, it felt so good, so right. Then the warning bells started going off in her head. She couldn't get used to this. They were going to be working together.

He was her boss.

What the hell has she just gotten herself into? No, scratch that.

What the hell has she just gotten her _heart_ into?

"So?"

"So what?"

"Who. Is. Javi." Steve wanted that answer. Sam chuckled.

"Okay," Sam said, pulling her head up off his chest, looking up at him. "In the order Mae's rapid fire questions came at me, here we go. I have a great house I fell in love with when I moved to LA and I've lived there for five years, accumulating five year's worth of crap which includes my bike – a Ninja – and my three cars Black Betty, Eleanor and Captain. Betty's a souped up Jeep, Eleanor is my '67 Shelby GT that I restored my first year in LA and Captain is my brand new Charger. Red is my 4 year old red nosed pitbull I rescued during a sting operation into a dogfighting ring who will slobber you to death. Glenn Wicks is my commanding officer on SWAT and he and his wife took me in when I moved to LA. I wasn't even on SWAT yet but knew a couple of guys who were. Glenn and Janie made me a member of the family. Javi…well, Javi is…er, was…well, has been, a…distraction, shall we say, for the past six months or so. Unfortunately, he is also SWAT, Mae doesn't approve and Glenn really wants to kick my ass over the fact that the fallout is going to be miserable once I dump him. Did I leave anything out?" Sam's rambling speech comes to an end and she automatically starts chewing on her bottom lip once again.

"Yeah, you left out one thing," he responded. Sam tilted her head to the side, trying to think about she missed and also dreading if the next question had to do with Javi. "Your stash?"

Sam smiled. "Uh, yeah, my stash. That would be my personal version of a SCIFF slash armory. Old habits die hard, I guess." She didn't see any reason to share with him the contents of said SCIFF, though she was pretty sure he would read between the lines.

Steve nodded. "Enough to arm a small militia, basically?"

Sam tensed at the word. If he only knew, she thought. Instead she simply chuckled good naturedly and nodded. "Yeah, basically." Once again, she stared off. Steve studied her for a moment, wondering what to ask her next. He had so many questions. Before he could pinpoint where to start, Sam spoke. "We can't do this alone."

Steve furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she responded. "We're gonna need some help. That should be our first order of business." Steve nodded, knowing she was right. Two people does not a task force make.

"You have any suggestions?"

"Maybe," she responded with a smile. "One or two. While lasagna's under construction, let's take a ride."

"Where?" Steve asked curiously.

Sam just gave him her own wicked little grin.

The look on Steve's face said it all.

He knew she was going to be trouble.

And he was going to enjoy it.


End file.
